Insecurity
by giraffehomie
Summary: Lady Mary Crawley knew the cure to insecurity and administered it well. Perfection. Flawlessness. Her skin was smooth, pale; her face beautiful. Her dresses made to current fashion; her hats complemented in style. Perfection, which meant no one could speak badly of her. Except to say that she was an ice queen—but at least she was queen. A S1 fill-in centered on Mary and Matthew.
1. Chapter 1

_**Insecurity: Chapter One**_

_****Hello, everyone. I haven't written fanfiction since middle school (years ago), but I couldn't resist the complicatedness that is Mary. I am making up my own history for Matthew, since in the show we see and know so little of him beyond his interactions with Downton. Nothing too dramatic, I hope! This begins in season one and connects the dots between each scene until season two. The first few chapters may contain more of the original scenes written by Julian Fellowes, just to set up the situations, but it will eventually be more...well, more. Please enjoy!_

* * *

_April 1912_

Lady Mary Crawley knew the cure to insecurity and administered it well. Perfection. Flawlessness. Her skin was smooth, pale; her face beautiful. Her dresses made to current fashion; her hats complemented in style. Perfection, which meant no one could speak badly of her. Except to say that she was an ice queen—but at least she was queen.

Cold. Heartless. She had become very good at ignoring what _was_ said about her, but those words still pierced and stabbed, still hurt. They were her bedfellows, along with the feelings she never, ever let leave her room.

So, of course, she felt nothing after hearing about Patrick and the Titanic. It only annoyed her. Now she would have to wear black, a color that never worked with her complexion. And heavens, who was the next heir? She refused to be pushed into another arranged marriage just to keep Downton. She wanted to believe she didn't need help from anybody, especially if they told her what to do.

Mary was going to her room to change for dinner when she heard sniffling. "Really, Edith. The memorial is already over," she said, rolling her eyes. She could never tolerate her middle sister. It was embarrassing how easily things got to Edith, who had obviously inherited their mother's American propensity for sentimentality.

Her sister straightened and wiped her eyes. "How can you say that?"

Mary shrugged carelessly, turning away.

"You're heartless."

That word again. Mary felt a twinge, quickly squashed. She kept on walking. "At least I don't look like a mess," she threw over her shoulder, knowing full well how much that would hurt Edith.

Yet as soon as she entered her room, Mary's self-confidence fled. Anna might as well have been taking off a coat of armor, not a lacey dress. The housemaid came and went, but still Mary couldn't bring herself to move, couldn't look away from the mirror.

Her eyes were a particularly translucent shade of cold brown, she noted. Fitting. They were her weaknesses, those transparent eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she could never keep them from whispering her secrets.

_What have I become?_

Just then, Sybil peered around the door. "Are you coming?"

Mary picked up a bracelet and pretended to look at it. "In a moment. You go."

But instead of leaving, Sybil marched up to her. "I know you're sad about Patrick. Whatever you say, I know it."

Mary sighed. Her lies never worked on Sybil. That was the thing about her baby sister. They were so alike it was scary. Except Sybil, who had unbendingly strong opinions and didn't let anyone forget it, was far braver than her eldest sister could ever be. Mary had grown too used to hiding behind her ice veneer. So much that nothing affected her the way they should, the way her sister thought they would. "You're a darling," she said before meeting Sybil's earnest eyes in the mirror. "But you see I'm not as sad as I should be. And that's what makes me sad."

She saw the frown and was a little guilty for disappointing Sybil. She knew her youngest sister looked up to her the way every girl looked up to her big sister. But there was no point in having her think Mary was a saint. Sybil didn't need her help anyway. Mary sighed again, inwardly, and stood up. "I'm ready. Let's go."

All through that night's dinner, Mary couldn't help thinking that the months in black would be very long indeed.

* * *

_September 1912_

Matthew Crawley was not one to careen wildly through life. His father had been a rather rushed man and look where he ended up. Dead, as a result of driving his carriage too quickly.

No, for Matthew, there was nothing better than taking life simply, enjoying each moment as it came to pass. Or not enjoying, depending on what the situation demanded. Being a solicitor, he was quite good at making a decision and sticking to it. His mother called it a stubborn streak, something he supposed he got from her.

In this instance, he couldn't quite decide on which end of the emotional spectrum he should be standing. Physically, of course, he was in front of Crawley House, a place that bore his name but held absolutely no place in his heart. Matthew decided to be angry. "I still don't see why I couldn't just refuse it."

He had been uprooted from the life he knew and thrust into a responsibility he neither wanted nor could carry out. He was perfectly content with practicing law for the rest of his life. For heaven's sake, he had showered years of sweat and tears into law school, and had finally just secured a top position in his firm. Well, former firm.

No, there was no way Matthew would give up his life that easily. Thank God he'd found a job in Ripon. It wasn't a big firm like the one in Manchester, but it would do.

He tried to listen as his mother consoled him, but a very eager looking man stopped before them, clearly waiting. _Who on earth…?_ "Can I help?" Matthew asked. It was brusque, but he couldn't seem to muster his manners.

"I'm Moseley, sir. Your butler and valet."

Good heavens. He was about to sack the man when his mother interrupted and introduced them. _Damn_. _Bloody hell._

"I won't let them change me," he muttered as they followed Mr. Moseley in. He would _not_ turn into a rich fool that couldn't do anything for himself. It was perhaps the only philosophy Matthew ever shared with his father.

Once inside, he had to admit, the house was beyond nice. But he wouldn't let that sway him. "This is ridiculous. We don't need a butler, or a valet. They cannot expect us to alter our—"

"What they expect, Matthew, is that we won't know how to behave," Mother stated, wielding blades of steel with her eyes. Her voice rose. "So if you don't mind, I would rather not confirm their expectations."

"I have to be myself, Mother. I'll be no use to anyone if I can't be myself." It was a lesson he'd learned long ago, one that he had struggled to make his father understand. "And before they, or you, get any ideas, I will choose my own wife."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"Well they're clearly going to push one of the daughters at me!"

And then Mr. Moseley announced, "Lady Mary Crawley."

If it was possible for all the blood to drain out of one's head while blushing at the same time, Matthew would certainly believe it. It was everything he could do to stay solidly on his feet while Lady Mary invited them to dinner.

She was like a creature from another world. A wondrous one. Matthew had been to London, of course. He'd met plenty of well-dressed, pretty ladies. But this one… She _belonged_, there was no doubt about it.

He heard his mother ask, "Won't you stay and have some tea?"

"Oh no, you're far too busy," the creature replied. She exuded an air of superiority while remaining polite. Maybe it was something about the eyebrows. Or the fact that she spoke with such flippant confidence. "And I wouldn't want to _push_ in." Then she shifted and looked at him directly for the first time.

_Beautiful_…He was lost in eyes the color of chocolate on a sunny day. Matthew swallowed against his shortness of breath. And then she was gone.

_Push…_ Her final words pranced in his head. Oh God, she'd heard him. Matthew ran out the door after her, determined to apologize.

"Lady Mary, I hope you didn't misunderstand me. I was only joking."

She didn't need the vantage point of being on her horse to see right through him. Matthew was a horrible liar. "Of course!" she said. Her voice wore disdain like a second skin. "And I agree. The whole thing is a complete _joke_."

Even if she had waited for his reply, Matthew would not have come up with one. He had never been this flustered or embarrassed in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Insecurity: Chapter Two**_

_Sorry this chapter took so long. The first three episodes of DA are definitely my least favorite, but I managed to plow through episode two. Not my best piece of work. It's just so hard not having Matthew and Mary on the same team. I'm still piecing together my ideas, but I delve a little more into their respective pasts in this chapter. Well, please enjoy._

* * *

"I wonder what Cousin Matthew thinks about women's suffrage."

Edith scoffed. "What makes you think he's interested at all?"

"He works with law. Why wouldn't he be interested?" Sybil put down the newspaper she had been reading. "Papa, when is he coming for dinner again?"

"I believe he will be joining us tonight," he answered, looking up just in time to catch Sybil's smile. "I'm glad at least one of you likes Matthew."

Mary considered sneaking her sausage under the table for Pharaoh, having lost her appetite. Instead, she opened the letter she had received not ten minutes ago.

"I don't mind him," Edith announced, spreading butter on her toast nonchalantly.

Mary scoffed. "You're just saying that to get on my nerves."

"And clearly I have," Edith said with a smirk, peeking at the letter Mary had thrown down. "And I wasn't lying. We could have a lot worse than Cousin Matthew." Their father murmured his agreement and Edith practically purred with satisfaction. "With a degree from Oxford, no one can deny he's clever."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Oh, I see. You like his _brains_. "

Edith slid a look at her. "I like that Downton will be in good hands. And I do like his _head_. If you ask me, he's not so very bad looking. Don't you agree, Sybil?"

"I do! He has the most fascinating eyes." Sybil was a little too excited, but when one was seventeen, one was too excited about every young man one meets. "But we mustn't judge based on looks."

"Or manners. He's a bit awkward. I thought I could hear crickets whenever he spoke."

"I think it's endearing. We are all too used to having company with perfect manners. It gets quite dull."

"The thing is, he insists on keeping that job. I don't know how he'll manage. Imagine what people will say."

"_I_ think that's commendable. It—"

Mary thought her hears would burn off. "We all know what you think, Sybil," she groused. "Can we stop talking about him as if he were here to stay?" She was suddenly all too aware that everyone was staring at her, so she picked up her cup. "Mama and Granny will find a lawyer to help us. It's only a matter of time until this ridiculous situation was over." If only she was as confident as she sounded. Mary fingered her letter.

"Mary," Papa said gently, "the entail can't be broken." He sighed. "Remember when you begged me for a white horse, and I bought Diamond for you instead? You were so angry."

She ignored Edith and Sybil's giggles. They always did when someone brought up Mary's childhood tantrums. "I don't see how—"

"But you got on that horse anyway. Now you love him more than anything."

"That's entirely different! Diamond can hardly inherit Downton, can he? If only _he_ were a horse. Then we could just give him a kick and he'd be off." The abrupt silence that choked the room pinched at her nerves.

Papa wiped his mouth and then stood. The sadness in his eyes made Mary's heart drop. "It wasn't an easy decision for me, Mary. Just…give him a chance," he pleaded, and left.

A few minutes later, she stood and strode out as well, unable to bear the gossip about the Duke of Crowborough that Edith was reading aloud.

Once in the solitude of her bedroom, Mary sat at her table. With steadying breaths, she smoothed out the letter and laid a blank piece of paper next to it. If Downton wasn't to be hers, if she wouldn't have money and Papa wouldn't help, then she would bloody well pave her own future.

Her pen hovered for moment before scratching out,

_My Dear Mr. Napier…_

* * *

His mother had made a habit of getting up to eat breakfast with him before he went to work. She had done so even before Reginald Crawley had died, and for that Matthew was truly grateful.

"Mother, will you be visiting the hospital?"

She pursed her lips. "I'm not sure. It's been so long…"

"It's been _too_ long. Twenty years." Matthew muttered bitterly. "It was wrong of him to ask you to quit nursing."

"You know I don't like it when you speak of your father that way, Matthew."

"I know," he sighed. He never understood his mother's unfailing loyalty to a husband who had, no matter how you minced words, forced his wife to give up everything. "But you loved being a nurse. You lived for it."

"How do you know? You were only two when I left."

"You've certainly told me enough stories about the good old days. Even when I wanted to hear stories about knights and dragons, you told me about nursing. No wonder I ended up such a wuss."

Her laughter lit up the room and he savored it with a lopsided grin. "Oh Matthew…" she said, shaking her head at him in amusement.

"Come on, Mother." He reached across the table and clasped her hands. "Please. Live your life. I'd be so selfish if I kept you all to myself."

"Oh… Oh, all right. I'll go. Today. I hope I haven't forgotten anything."

Now it was his turn to laugh. "I doubt it, Mother. I seriously doubt it. And now I must be off."

She followed him out to the hall, where Moseley was waiting. "I hope the new firm won't be too much of a change."

Matthew reached around the butler-doubling-as-a-valet and donned his coat and hat. "If it is, I'm sure I'll get used to it. They've given me a better position than I hoped for."

He was almost out the door when she stopped him with a soft hand on his arm. "Matthew. I'm so proud of you. No matter what you do."

That earned a kiss on the cheek. "Have a great day, Mother. Try not to cause too much trouble at the hospital."

* * *

As Mary rode through the simple streets of Ripon, turning her black stallion at the right moments automatically, she conceded one thing. Papa was right. She loved Diamond, at times more than she loved people.

Mary would never forget the day Papa had surprised her with the horse. She had had a silly little dream back then. In her dream, she would whistle and a beautiful white horse would gallop up to her, mane and tail flowing brilliantly in the wind. He would put his soft nose in her hand and she would tell him all her secrets.

That day, she had seen Diamond's black coat, exactly the opposite of her dream, and hadn't even bothered with a second look. She ran. She was fifteen and too old to cry, but she still ran to Carson's office.

"My lady!" he had exclaimed when she burst in, setting down his pen. "What is the matter?"

"Papa, he… I wanted…" Her voice wavered.

Carson knew. He beckoned her to come around his desk. Proprieties and manners didn't matter. "I know, my lady, I know. You wanted a white horse."

"I've waited so long. You know how long."

He put a hand on her shoulder and looked straight into her eyes. "Lady Mary, if you don't mind my saying so, you're being very spoiled right now."

That caught her attention. "I am, aren't I?" She hated the idea of being whiney. It was such an Edith thing to do.

"Yes. And if you don't mind me—"

"You know I don't mind, Carson. Just say it."

"Remember when Lord Grantham went out of town a few days ago?"

She nodded, sniffling a bit.

"He wasn't attending a regimental dinner. He was finding this horse for you. Do you want to know what he said to me?"

She nodded again.

"He said to me, 'Carson, I've got to find Mary that horse. She's been pining away day and night and I just can't bear to see it anymore. But I asked around and none of the white ones are good enough. I want the best for her. It's not exactly birthing season, you know.'"

"He said that?"

"I heard it with my own ears. He asked me to keep it a secret so that it would be a surprise. He chose this horse for you personally." He peered at her from under bushy eyebrows.

"It was very selfish of me to run away, wasn't it?" And embarrassing.

"You won't always get your way in life. When that happens, you must accept whatever comes with grace. You're a lady, don't ever forget that. And do apologize to your papa."

"I always apologize." She smiled and hugged him. "Thank you, Carson."

After that, she had gone to the stable, where the black colt was munching on hay. She stood there for the longest time and just looked at him. He looked right back with big brown eyes. Then she reached out and he pushed his nose right into her hand, covering her with warm huffs of air and a little bit of saliva.

The crash and scrape of metal jarred Mary out of her memories. She scrambled to stop Diamond from rearing. "Easy, boy. Easy." She peeked around his big shoulders. A man was brushing himself off, his bicycle laid groaning on its side at his feet. "Oh my goodness! I'm terribly sorry. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm not so sure about my bicycle, however." He turned around to inspect the bike.

Her heart gave an odd leap of surprise, but her brain turned in annoyance. "Oh. It's you," she managed.

He glanced at her, blue eyes flashing like lightning. "Hello. I take it you would have rather seen me under the hooves of that thing."

"Diamond."

"What?"

"That thing's name is Diamond."

Cousin Matthew stooped to upright his bicycle. "And this is Bicycle, who appears to have survived our tumble." When he turned back to her, a quirky smile lifted one corner of his mouth. Those eyes washed over her unabashedly. After a pause, he offered his hand to her horse. "Pleased to meet you, Diamond."

Mary had to restrain herself from jerking the reins when her horse nuzzled the man. "I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

"No, no. I was going too fast and didn't stop before I turned the corner." A faint sheen of horse breath glistened on his leather gloves.

They stared at each other.

"I was on my way to the post," she finally explained.

"Ah. I would offer to take it the rest of the way, but Crawley House is the opposite way."

"I don't need your help." That had come out before she had time to think.

His gaze flickered away, but came back to meet hers evenly. "I never got that impression. Anyway, you'd better hurry if you want to make the post on time."

She'd forgotten about closing times. Stupid. "Why can't you people just stay open all the time?" Mary muttered. "If you're going to work, you might as well work."

"That's the thing with _you _people. You think the world revolves around you." Every line on his face hardened as what little mirth he had left was chased away by shadows. Like thunderclouds gathering. Easier to read than a children's book. She briefly wondered what it was like to be honest, to bare all your feelings to the world and have no cares what it thought.

"But you have no idea," continued Matthew. "You don't know what it's like to work for something. So hard that sometimes you feel like giving up. These _people_ don't work for you; they do it for themselves. Because they'd be nothing without work, they'd mean nothing."

"You don't know what it's like to be me."

Matthew jabbed the air with a finger pointed at her. His hair flopped as he did, a strand falling over his forehead as if mocking her with a salute. "And you don't know what it's like to be _me_," he shot back.

Diamond was fidgeting. Mary wished she could do the same. "What's so hard about sitting behind a desk all day?"

"Even though I don't save lives, I feel I am helping others. It may be nothing to you, but I'm proud of where I am in life and what I do. Are you?"

Mary's throat was tight. She wished she could be anywhere but under the glare of his bright blue eyes. Why, _why_ was she picking all the wrong fights today?

He watched his hands squeezing the black handles on his bicycle for a moment before turning back to her. "I hope the post is still open. See you tonight, Lady Mary."

He left before she could think of a reply, which was fine with her. She moved Diamond into a fast walk. How dare he wish her well, after that argument? Was the man mental? But as she closed in on the still open post office, it wasn't relief she felt.

Damn him. He took Downton away from her; he didn't have to take her confidence as well.

* * *

_Just to clarify, the dinner they have "tonight" is the second dinner in episode two, where Mary makes fun of Matthew for not riding and hunting. And of course, Andromeda and the sea monster._


End file.
